Peace in the Spirit

“Not as the world gives do I give to you.” Of course, the peace that the world gave at the time of Jesus and while the Gospel of John was being collated and recorded was the Pax Augusta, or as we now know it, the Pax Romana (the Roman peace). It was a period of “relative peace and minimal expansion by military force” which lasted for about 200 years from about 25 BC to 180 AD. This peace was not simply the “absence of war”; it was the effective suppression of any real resistance to the Roman Empire. It was an imperial, colonialist act—one perpetrated upon many peoples and cultures (most of the then “known world”). And it was a propaganda coup. A society that has existed on continual armed conflict and ongoing political expansion found it difficult to live without constant military pushes and conquests. Roman citizens themselves needed to be persuaded that prosperity was possible without continual military expansion. And naturally, conquered societies must be convinced of the futility or lack of necessity for resistance. But somehow, it was basically achieved and peace was declared by the closure of the gates of the temple of Janus in Rome in at least 3 grand ceremonies to which ancient historians refer (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pax_Romana). This Pax Romana was the world’s peace: a political, colonial and imperial peace. It was not the peace that Jesus was invoking upon the disciples.

Jesus was calling down a peace that did not involve suppression, that was not simply the absence of conflict; a peace in which the disciples would be accompanied by an advocate and guide rather than an occupying force.

14:27 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives.

Jesus was talking about a different kind of peace and with it, a different kind of hope—a hope not for the absence of social and political upheaval; but the hope of being continually in God’s presence. Of course, this is the hope and peace that was promised from the beginning of creation—a life in God’s presence. And yet it was and is a hope and peace, that humanity has failed to understand, failed to appreciate, and failed to live for. It is a hope and peace for which a Pax Romana is a cheap and tawdry substitute; and, more than that, a horrible and fraudulent approximation. The peace that Jesus was talking about was the peace of being in utter and continuous relationship with God, of living in God’s economy of shalom, of dwelling in God’s city.

That vision of hope and peace is picked up in the book of Revelation with its vision of the city that needs no temple because God is so apparent that those that dwell within the city need no other tangible reminders to love, honour and serve God. This is a city where the gates are not closed proclaiming a peace of imperial suppression; but the gates are wide open welcoming the world and offering divine hospitality.

And yet even the vision of Revelation has its own imperialist overtones: “nothing unclean will enter it”. Bill Loader writes that “Ultimately a vision that is satisfied to permanently exclude the immoral carries a conflict within itself and threatens to unravel the good news or relegate it to something of temporary relevance” (http://wwwstaff.murdoch.edu.au/~loader/CEpEaster6.htm). The world’s peace is always close to us, tempting us with its illusory nature—telling us that it is possible to suppress and exclude all that we find “unclean”, not to our taste, not acceptable to us, so that we might be clean and perfect and pure on our own. But that is not God’s peace, that is an imperial, colonialist peace—albeit a tempting one.

So, what then does God’s peace involve? Jesus says, “Those who love me will keep my word.” And you better be sure that “keeping my word” isn’t just about keeping a secret or saying the right things in the right places, it’s about living out a lifestyle—a lifestyle of love for God and love for one another arising from being in utter relationship with God; coming out of being the very dwelling place of God.

14:27 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives.

Not a Pax Romana, but a Pax Christi, the peace of Christ that does not suppress but frees for relationship with God and with one another; a peace that is concerned with hospitality and justice; a peace that is about a full life, a life lived in God.

Love One Another

Talk about love
how it makes life complete
You can talk all you want
make it sound nice and sweet,
But the words have an empty ring,
and they don't really mean a thing,
Without Him love is not to be found;
not to be found.

Originally written by Ralph Carmichael for the 1969 Christian musical “Tell it like it is”, “Love is surrender” became a popular hit when it was recorded by The Carpenters… with a slight word change. Instead of the line “Without Him love is not to be found”—a clear reference to God in its original musical context, The Carpenters sang “Without love you are not to be found”—“Without love you are not to be found”. It was a small change, but a momentous one. Suddenly, the focus of the song shifted from God, the giver of love, to us, the finders of love. And that small, but significant shift, is something that we tend to do automatically when we read the very familiar words of today’s Gospel reading:

13:34 I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.

Whenever we come across these words, almost invariably, it is the words “love one another” that we emphasise; and there’s no doubt that they are important words, but they would be almost meaningless without the other part of that new instruction, “as I have loved you”—“as I have loved you”.

This reading is part of the Gospel of John’s very extensive farewell discourses given by Jesus at the “last supper”. Jesus has washed the disciples’ feet, predicted his betrayal and begun to talk about “going away” and the “glorification of the ‘Son of man’” and of God in that human one: “love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” Almost immediately, Peter promises to lay down his life for Jesus and Jesus predicts Peter’s denial. Then Jesus spends a long time assuring the disciples of God’s presence, God’s peace and God’s leading into the future even when he is not there.

13:34 … love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.
13:35 By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."

Love one another—just as I have loved you. The love of which Jesus speaks is not an airy-fairy, insipid, feel-good, emotional experience. It is grounded in his very person, in his very being, in his life, death and resurrection, and the promises of God fulfilled in that journey. The love of which Jesus speaks is not one that does everything that others think should be done or left done—Peter didn’t want Jesus to wash his feet at all; nor is it a love that conforms to the slightest whim—it wasn’t because Peter changed his mind, that Jesus washed Peter’s feet. The love of which Jesus speaks is firmly grounded in the presence and purpose of God. This love is not a giving up, or a giving in, but a giving for the sake of God’s world. It speaks of purpose and direction, of hope and of reason to live, to be, to exist.

The title of that pop song “Love is surrender” was always a problem. When surrender means giving up all responsibility and forfeiting all commitment, love is not to be found. When surrender means waving a “white flag” because we simply don’t have the energy to fight anymore, love is not to be found. When surrender means a “giving for” (a rendering towards) the presence and purpose of God, then the love of God has been discovered and we have been enfolded within it. “For love is surrender to [God’s] will.”

The type of loving to which Jesus calls the disciples, to which Jesus calls us, is the type of love embodied in his very person. It is an acceptance of the presence and purpose of God in the life of the world; and it is only because of God’s love, that we are enabled to love one another, as God as loved us.

Sing about love
and the strength it can give
You can sing how you're ready
to face life and live,
But you know as the days go by
that no matter how hard you try,
Without God love is not to be found;
not to be found.

God has given us, rendered towards us, the very gift and promise of new life in Christ. The only response that is required of us is our honouring of that gift as we pray that God will work through us to make that promise known and real throughout the whole of God’s creation.

13:34 … love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.
13:35 By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."

ANZAC Day

When ANZAC Day occurs on a Sunday, the church’s regular day of worship, we are confronted with a conflict: will we shift our services so that members may attend the ANZAC ceremonies? Will ministers of religion put ANZAC addresses ahead of regular Sunday worship? Will we choose to attend a Christian service of worship or a civic ceremony?

ANZAC Day is a national and civic celebration. On this day, we remember those who have fought and particularly those who died in the cause of national goals, values, ideals, society. Their sacrifice is not meaningless. It is through their sacrifice that we enjoy the society we live in today. However, we need to be careful—ANZAC Day is not necessarily a Christian celebration, although Christian people participate in it. There is a sense in which Christians will always approach ANZAC ceremonies with ambivalence.

Some of that ambivalence will arise when ANZAC ceremonies appear to glorify war and/or military solutions to global conflicts; and indeed many veterans will join us in our ambivalence when that occurs. Probably most of us know or have known veterans who choose not to participate in the ANZAC Day activities because their experiences were so traumatic.

Some of our ambivalence will arise because our regular, formative practice of worship is presumed to be secondary to such civic occasions. At such times, we must think very carefully about what our priorities are and what any of our actions may communicate to our community—does giving up our worship time signal that this is a disposable part of the Christian Life? Does choosing to worship rather than attend ANZAC ceremonies indicate that we do not care for the world around us?

A lot of our ambivalence must also arise around the imagery of sacrifice used in ANZAC ceremonies. For Christian people, the ultimate sacrifice is not the deaths of war and armed conflict as terrible as they are. For us, the ultimate sacrifice is the entry of God into our world as Jesus and Jesus’ participation in our humanity to the fullest extent, i.e. death. In the sacrifice that God makes through Christ, we are shown that no other life sacrifice is necessary. Therefore, on ANZAC day, while we remember the losses of war, and reflect on the apparent gains won through those losses, we must also mourn the fact that any loss occurred at all. For us, the life, death and resurrection of Christ means that the only sacrifice required is a life of honouring God in worship, witness and service—a “sacrifice of thanksgiving” to God.

A Very, Very Short Catechism

Who are you?
We are the people of God,
the body of Christ, the communion of the Spirit.
What is your calling?
To worship, witness and serve
in the name of our Triune God.
And what does that entail?
Praying, sharing, caring, loving
in the manner of Christ.
To what end do you do this?
For the sake of the new life given to us by God
through Christ in the power of the Spirit.
Then let us honour the God
who has granted us resurrection life
and calls us to share that life
for the sake of God’s world.

Faith, Hope & Love

In The Cross in our Context (2003), Douglas John Hall asks what a contemporary understanding of Christian mission looks like when it takes the crucified, risen Christ seriously, and avoids triumphalism. He suggests that such a mission is found in Paul’s 3 great theological virtues—faith, hope and love.

Faith is about trust. We do not possess truth. We “bear witness to the living therefore unpossessible Truth”. We proclaim Christ, “the one toward whom [our] faith is oriented” and whom we “experience as being utterly transcendent of [our] faith as such”. “A theology that bases itself on faith alone (sola fide) cannot in its worldly witness legitimately behave as though it were infallible.” Such faith will embrace dialogue, humility, openness, a sense of mystery, questions and doubt in the fundamental disposition of trust, i.e. faith (pp. 193-194).

Hope is not about “finality or consummation”. A mission based in hope will recognise the “expansiveness of divine grace that far exceeds its own grasp and representation of this mission”. Our hope is in God, not in our “own always-limited appropriation of God’s redemptive work”. “Christian mission is a particular, ongoing attempt faithfully to comprehend and participate in the missio Dei… Christians are those who have glimpsed in faith something of the reality and depth of this divine labour and who strive to involve themselves in it.” But it is not our work. We are not a “finished” community. (p. 195). We are a pilgrim people “always on the way to the promised goal” (Basis of Union Para. 3).

The “love that is the pattern and inspiration of the Christian mission is a ‘spontaneous and unmotivated’ love, agape, that is wholly turned toward the other in disregard of self—to the point of suffering and death, the death of the cross.” Mission that is not motivated by love is motivated by power. It is motivated by the will to control or to appear successful or to make everyone think like us. Mission motivated by love will recognise our own failings. It will be ready to beg forgiveness and eager to receive and share God’s word of forgiveness. “Love is the canon by which all or our actions as Christians, including mission and evangelism as well as all social outreach and neighbourliness, are measured” (Hall pp. 197-198).

Meeting Jesus

In the weeks following Easter, we are confronted with a series of questions:
• Who is Jesus Christ for us today?
• Where do we meet Christ in our time?
From the scriptures, we hear about encounters with the risen Christ; and some of the great “I am…” statements from the Gospel of John.

So, where do you find the crucified Christ in our world today? Where do you see suffering because of injustice and failure to recognise the value of God’s creation? Where do you find the resurrected Christ in our world today? Where do you find life and hope overpowering death and despair? The crucified and resurrected Christ are one and the same; and we cannot recognise Christ without considering both dimensions.

When we look only for a resurrected, powerful Christ whom we may celebrate with joy without remembering the pain, our Christianity will be “triumphalist”. It will forget that life in Christ makes sense only because of the journey of the life of Christ—the entry of God into the world created by God. God is with us in all of mortal life, that we might be with God in that life which transcends death. God gives life in the face of a world that deals death particularly to the vulnerable.

When we look only for a crucified Christ without remembering the gift of new life, our Christianity will be maudlin and pietistic. It will glory in despair rather than hope; and forget that we are called to participate in God’s ongoing mission in the world and for the sake of the world.

Against the orders of hate
you bring us the law of love.
In the face of so many lies
you are the truth out loud.
Amid so much new of death
you have the word of life.
After so many false promises, frustrated hopes,
you have, Lord Jesus, the last word,
and we have put all our trust in you. Alleluia.
(from Misa dos Quilombos by Pedro Casaldaligo, Trans. By Tony Graham, Christian Aid; Reproduced in Bread of Tomorrow ed. by Janet Morley, SPCK, 1992, p. 138.)

Happy Easter!

Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Happy Easter everybody!

This day is the celebration of the Christian year. It was probably the first Christian feast; and it was celebrated every Sunday, the day of resurrection, as Christians gathered to read the Scriptures, share God’s Word and participate in the meal of thanksgiving.

In Christian time, Sunday is both the first day of creation and the 8th day of creation—the day of re-creation in Christ. On this day we celebrate all that God has done for us in creation, redemption and sanctification. And on Easter Sunday, we are reminded that all this is revealed to us in Jesus and that our reconciliation with God is accomplished through Jesus.

Janet Morley suggests that the “announcement of the defeat of death by life is strangely problematic for many of us” particularly in western cultures to understand and to celebrate. “We expect Easter to provide an uncomplicated and uncostly source of joy, and are puzzled when it does not… By contrast, it is those who have literally endured the cost and the risk of Passiontide, who are the readiest to hear the message of resurrection and claim it as truth.” For Morley, Easter “points us most vividly the distance that lies between those who have or who have not, as individuals or communities, explicitly confronted the powers of evil, and moved beyond the fear of death to a place of inexplicable freedom and life” (from Bread of Tomorrow, SPCK, 1992, pp. 119-120).

Life goes beyond death,
because life is called to life, not death.
That is the plan of its creator.
But life blossoms into full flower
only in those who nurture life
here on this earth;
in those who defend its rights,
protect its dignity,
and are even willing to accept death
in their witness to it.
(From Way of the Cross—Way of Justice by Leonardo Boff, Orbis, 1998; Reproduced in Bread of Tomorrow ed. by Janet Morley, SPCK, 1992, p. 132).